There is something vaguely comforting and cosy about being in a caravan when it’s raining. This is just as well because it rained pretty much all night. We slept reasonably well, waking just occasionally to check that there was no danger of the beloved English Lakes drying out. By the time Francine made our breakfast of eggs, black pudding and mushrooms, the rain had ceased. The black pudding was excellent.
Our campsite is on the edge of Keswick and abuts the northern tip of Derwent Water. The weather forecast has been changing frequently. We’d originally been expecting some more rain but now plain overcast was the order of the day. Bouyed up by the promise of an unexpectedly dry day, we thought we donned walking boots for the muddy ground and popped out for a first orientation wander around some of Derwent Water.
Flat, grey skies are generally a photographic disaster; the usual approach is to cut such a sky out – whatever you photograph, do not include any sky. However, with the still water and the mountains on either side of the lake being cloaked in cloud/mist, I couldn’t really tell you which it was, the view was peaceful, serene, and took on an ethereal quality.
Realizing my limitations, I left Francine to try capturing the serenity of the somewhat murky vista on pixels – no straightforward task – and tried to capture some of the indigenous wildlife. The ethereal quality of the light seemed to be enhancing the birds, too, with a good clear background, and at least I could cut out the sky. Here comes Air Canada. 🙂
Meanwhile, back at Francine, the lake was being done some favours. We’d worked our way down part of the eastern shore snapping foregrounds of various stakes and boulders, when we happened upon Friar’s Crag, a promontory with a little elevation looking out over a pair of islands in the middle distance. Here’s what Francine and a Big Stopper made of it. [Editorial note: Francine actually prefers the straight view with a few ripples left on the water but I wanted a Big Stopper shot.]
Beside Friar’s crag is the curiously named Strandshag Bay. The mind can only guess at what might have happened here to merit such a handle. Overlooking the scene of what sounds like someone or something’s misfortune is this charmingly situated dwelling – charming except for the fact that it’s in one of the wettest parts of the country, that is.
The weekend forecast is depressingly wet. I know I really wanted to get away from home but a weekend full of rain is less than appealing. My fingers are still firmly crossed.